The Way The Winds Blow
by Gweniveve Skyes
Summary: Christian McCormick has been hunting his fiance's killer for two years. With only an albino Pidgeot feather to guide him, he soon ends up in Altomare, where he learns of a plot to obtain the ultimate power, and that sometimes, it's okay to let go...
1. Chapter 1

The Way The Winds Blow

Chapter 1: Winds of Vengeance

**So while I know I have a lot of stories on my plate, this one just continued to pick at me incessantly, so I went with it. And for those who are waiting for 'Aura Knight', I apologize, but I seem to be at a rough patch with the story. I promise that I will continue to work at it, but for now, it might just be on a temporary hiatus.**

**Disclaimer: Tragically, I do not own Pokemon. Someone else very far away from where I live does, much to my distress.**

_"How ironic that the sun must shine on today,"_ Christian McCormick thought has he tugged at the uncomfortable black suit. _"Alison loved the sun." _Today was the day that he would put his fiance, Alison Skyfeather, into the ground, six feet under, lost to all but those who knew the name was on the tombstone. He fought back the tears as the pallbearers began to lower the laminated casket into the ground. Alison's eevee, Winddancer, nudged at his foot, the creature's soft brown eyes mournful. He picked up the delicate fox-like creature and held it to his chest, as if the fur would hold traces of her scent, lilacs and lavender, flowers that she grew in her small garden. was glad that they did a closed casket ceremony; he couldn't stand seeing her the state she was in, especially after he was the one that found her body.

XXXXXXXXX

_"Alison!" Christian shouted in the living room of the house they shared. While the deed was under her name, he considered it his. She didn't answer, which was unusual. His growlithe began to grow low in it's throat, its ridge on its back raising. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end too. "Alison?" he called, growing more and more concerned. He placed the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and made his way upstairs, to Alison's bedroom. As he went up the stairs, a coppery tang scent filled the air, a cloying smell that permeated every sense. He breath began to quicken and his heart began to pound loudly in his ears. _"Please let her be alright," _he prayed. _"Please."

_Her bedroom door was ajar, light coming from underneath and he pushed it slowly; he wished he didn't_.

_Her body was lying on the floor, blood pouring from a gaping wound in her chest. Her normally dark complexion was pale with the shade of death. Her eyes were turned to him, as if pleading for him to come rescue her. _

_ "No! No no no! Alison!" he screamed, a primal sound that ripped from his throat. He rushed to her body and he shook her. "Alison! Alison! Please, oh Arceus no! Alison!" He cried out, and his growlithe started to howl next to him, the cries echoing out the open window..._

_ Christian noticed the open window, a faint breeze fluttering the curtains. "She never leaves them open, only when's she cleaning." Something terribly wrong was with this picture and a gust of wind blew something on top of her body. He picked it up._

_ It was a white feather long and stiff, like a wing feather from a bird pokemon, but it wasn't a feather form a pokemon he remembered. It was almost translucent, like it was bleached of all pigment. He stowed it away in his jacket pocket; he had a clue he realized, the first step closer to finding the killer. He reached for his cell phone and dialed for the police, the first seeds planted for justice._

_XXXXXXXXXX_

The funeral was soon over, going much faster than he had thought it would. He turned to leave after leaving his last gift to her, a turquoise necklace that he had gotten in respect to her customs and her tribe. He started to leave the cemetery, still carrying Alison's eevee, Growlithe tagging behind.

"Are you Christian McCormick?" a man asked getting his attention. He was a tall man, with a slender frame and a aura of power and wisdom surrounding him. He was clad in an nearly all white garments, a long robe that came down to spill across the ground. A white cloak with golden trimmings rested on his shoulders. Golden eyes stared intensely and Christian had the eerie feeling that he was being judged.

"Yes, yes I am," he replied, his voice scratchy from weeping.

"My condolences on your loss," the man offered. "But I must warn you, a path of vengeance leads to nothing but pain and suffering, and not always for those you intend it for."

"It's not technically 'vengeance'. It's justice for a innocent soul that didn't deserve to die the way she did." Christian paused afterward, wondering why he would be willing to admit this to a complete stranger. There was something about him that made Christian compelled to confess to him.

The stranger shook his head, the platinum blond hair moving side to side. "There is often a thin line between to two. Take care that you aren't blind to where it is." He left the now ghostly silent graveyard, the robes swishing on the grass.

Christian frowned at the stranger and continued to walk on, with nothing but a feather to guide his path.

**Since I'm sure that you're wondering who Christian is and what his pokemon are, I'll give you some information on him:**

**Christian Errol McCormick, male trainer from Kanto**

**Age: 22**

**Hair: red, kept short, but a little shaggy**

**Eyes: forest green (he would be considered of Irish descent from our world)**

**Pokemon:**

**Growlithe(refuses a fire stone to evolve): Male**

**Fire spin**

**Flamethrower**

**Odor sleuth**

**Quick attack**

**Pidgeot****(called Heru): Male**

**Wing attack**

**Brave bird**

**Featherdance**

**Close Combat (turns out father was a Staraptor)**

**Lapras****(called Kai, given to him by Alison) Female**

**Surf**

**Ice Beam**

**Water Gun**

**Ice Shard**

**Venasaur**** (called Sakaru) Male**

**Poisonpowder**

**Razor leaf**

**Giga Drain**

**Cut**

**Ampharos****: Male**

**Thunderpunch**

**Thunder wave**

**Discharge**

**Signal beam**

**Alakazam****(called Espera) Female**

**Hypnosis**

**Future Sight**

**Psybeam**

**Psychic**

**Eevee ****(Winddancer, aka Alison's eevee he keeps with him; Is allowed to carry her even though he has six pokemon) Female**

**Quick attack**

**Shadow Ball**

**Sand attack**

**Growl**


	2. Chapter 2: Winds of Reminisensce

Chapter 2: Winds of Reminiscence

Pallet Town was unusually rowdy when Christian came to the small town. He was from there actually, becoming a trainer two years after the now world-renowned Ash Ketchum. Christian walked up the hill to Professor Oak's office and knocked on the door. He hoped that he could help identify the mysterious feather that he still carried with him, despite an ongoing investigation. They had cleared him from their suspect list, but he had the feeling that they still considered him culpable for the crime.

The door creaked open to reveal a young assistant, with glasses and a coat that seemed a size too large for the skinny male.

"Hello," Christian said, Winddancer on his shoulder chirping a 'hello' too, as well as his growlithe. "Is Professor Oak here?"

"He's gone right now, he might be back later tonight though after the reception." The assistant answered, looking apologetic.

"Reception? Is that what all the commotion was?"

"Yeah! Ash Kechum is getting married!"

"Ah, I was wondering why the town was in a ruckus." Christian nodded. _"That should have been us, Alison" _he wished. He could just imagine it , the song playing while he held her in his arms, her dress flowing around her delicate yet strong frame, but now that was all he could, imagine. "Do you mind if I wait here until he gets back? My pokemon need to be fed."

"Um sure!" the assistant flustered. "The chow's in the back. But I'll warn you, the Professor might be a bit tipsy tonight, you know, too much champagne."

"I'm pretty sure I can handle the Professor." Christian let out his pokemon and proceeded to pour out the food for them into cheap plastic bowls. He sat in a chair, watching his pokemon eat their respective suppers.

XXXXXXXXXX

_ After the body had been identified and the next of kin were informed, there came the next hurdle: Alison's pokemon._

_ In tradition of her tribe, she didn't keep her pokemon in pokeballs, instead, keeping them out and letting them travel alongside her. She no longer traveled, but she still kept them out. _

_ Christian stood in the backyard, her pokemon sitting around him, waiting for him to speak. They could tell something was wrong, especially Winddancer but they didn't know exactly what; they hadn't been inside since the attack._

_ "I, I have something to tell you," he stuttered, trying hard to not break down in front of them. "Alison's de-de-," he couldn't even say the word 'dead', it was still so fresh in his mind's eye. "She's gone, she not coming back for a very long time." As if on cue, they seemed to understand what he was saying and they started to cry out, their heart wrenching noises rending the air. Christian joined them, howling his pain to the heavens above, collapsing on his knees._

_ After some time, after the cries receded, Christian stood back up, his knees wobbly. He took a deep breath to regain what little composure he had left. This is what Alison would have wanted. "She's gone now, so you have no trainer. You're free now, you can go back to where you came from." He could have kept them, but to keep them around would have reminded him of her. So he gave into his selfish wishes and released them from their ties. "Go on, shoo." they looked at him questioningly and slowly, one by one, they left the area, all save one though._

_ Christian felt a slight push against his leg and he looked down. Winddancer, Alison's eevee stayed, mewing pitifully. She was the youngest of her pokemon, the 'baby' of the family. Christian suddenly felt guilty. He couldn't just abandon the little one. He picked up the tiny fox pokemon and perched her on his shoulder. Well, maybe he could keep one of her pokemon. He headed back to the hotel room he was staying at and to start to make arrangements for her funeral._

_XXXXXXXXXX_

Christian didn't realized he had dozed off on the couch until he was shaken awake by the assistant. "Sir? Um, sir, Professor Oak's here."

"Huh? Oh, right." Christian got up from the couch, stretching like a cat. He shuffled over to the Professor, who surprisingly wasn't any where near 'tipsy' at all, but furiously working at his computer. He tapped the man on the shoulder. "Hello Professor Oak."

The elder turned and jumped in surprise. He gave Christian a look over and recognition sparked in his eyes. "Hello, Christian how are you doing? How's Sakaru and the others?" He noticed the eevee on his shoulder. "She looks new."

"Long story Professor," Christian smiled sadly and Professor Oak decided not to press the issue. Christian pulled out the feather he found, still in pristine condition even though it had been kept in his coat pocket for nearly a week. "Can you take a look at this for me Professor?"

The professor plucked it out of his hand and examined it, turning it in the fluorescent lights and studying the white feather with a critical eye. "This is very interesting, very unusual in fact." He walked over to a large microscope and place it on a glass slide. "Do you mind if I take a look at it?"

That's why I brought it sir."

Professor Oak turned some knobs and made adjustments to his microscope, trying to get a clear read on the feather. Christian waited impatiently, shifting from one foot to another, fingers tapping a buckle on his long coat. After a while, Samuel Oak stood from the chair, popping his back and other joints. Christian winced at the noises. "You have stumbled across something highly unusual."

"Well, what is it?"

"It's a pinion feather from a Pidgeot, as determined by the way the shaft is shaped and how the barbs interlock in that distinctive pattern?" he showed the nearly nonexistent 'pattern to Christian, who was not very interested. "However, the feather is completely bereft of all natural pigments. Normally, color variations of pokemon consist of what we scientists dub 'shiny' pokemon, even though they aren't really shiny at all, according to my opinion."

"So you're telling me that this Pidgeot has that vitiligo disease?"

"No because then the 'bleaching would be in patches. It's albinism, a genetic defect that causes little to no pigment to the skin and it will probably have red eyes as well."

_"Well, that narrows it down," _Christian thought, hope coming to him for the first time since that day. "So then, this Pidgeot should be easy to find then."

"If it's wild, then yes. It will have no natural camouflage whatsoever." Samuel Oak paused, glancing over at Christian's pidgeot, Heru, who was resting at the moment. "But you already have a Pidgeot, and you don't seem like the 'collecting' type to me."

"It's for a friend," he said, staving off the questioning. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"Well, good luck with your search. I remember reading that certain indigenous tribes revere pokemon of unnatural coloring, especially white, the color of purity." the professor stated offhandedly.

Christian started to advance towards the lab's door and started to turn the knob when the Professor remarked:

"You should stay here for the night. With all of the wedding guests in town, you'll have difficulty finding a place to stay. You can sleep here on the couch. I'll have my assistant here bring you some pillows and blankets." Oak gestured for the assistant, who was listening avidly to his teacher, to get said items. The assistant clambered up the stairs in a hurry, apologizing profusely to the Professor.

Christian shook his head at the flustered assistant. "Don't you have another assistant, the one who draws a lot?"

"Yes, Tracey, but if anything, he's probably conked out on Delia's couch by now, sleeping like a snorlax after an all-you-can-eat-buffet." Oak chuckled at his own joke, handing the blankets and pillows to Christian, which were just brought down. "Good night," he began to amble his way up to his living quarters, humming some tune Christian didn't recognize probably one of the songs from the wedding he came back from. He settled down on the couch and tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He hadn't gotten much sleep since her death. He frowned and picked up the things Samuel Oak gave him, and his belt of pokeballs and went outside.

He spread one of the blankets out, to serve as a barrier between him and the damp grass. He released his pokemon too, Heru, his pidgeot; Sakaru, his venasaur; Espera, his alakazam and lastly, Ampharos. He would have released Kai, his lapras, but he wasn't entirely sure how the water dwelling pokemon would have enjoyed being out on dry land. Winddancer and Growlithe curled up next to him,Winddancer using its fluffy tail to shield its face. The others settled around him, their body heat warming them up. Comforted by their presence, he fell into a fitful sleep.

"_Tomorrow, the search begins," _he thought, his last coherent thought before he went to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

The Hall of Origins was shrouded in silence as a man wandered in, a black cloak concealing his frame. He headed towards another man, who was peering into a pool of water, granite lining the water. Images danced and scintillated in the ripples, contorting the pictures that the stranger could see. The other man, with golden eyes and pale blond hair, sighed and waved his hand over the water, and the images changed.

"Arceus," the cloaked man announced, drawing the other man's attention to him.

Arceus, the golden eyed man, faced the other. "Giratina, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see why you are interested in this one human Suicune told me about." Giratina removed the cowl of the cloak, revealing black eyes and an angular face.

"It doesn't matter to you, so why are you so interested in the matter?" Arceus snapped.

"Because there are rumors floating about, one of them being that he'll be the center of an plot that could change the very nature of us."

"Preposterous," Arceus guffawed.

"Are you so sure?"

Arceus turned back to the pool, ignoring Giratina's question. "If only he wasn't so bent on vengeance, then maybe he could finally see what he was meant to do."

"Bah, humans are so wrapped up in their petty squabbles and emotions. But why him?"

Arceus bit his lip. "Because he is the key to saving us, even though he might not know it yet."

"By the time he does, it'll be the end of us."

"Well then, we'll just have to give him a nudge in the right direction then..."

**For those who are wondering, Alison Skyfeather is styled after the Native American tribes and people.**

** Also, you may have noticed the wedding, but there wasn't any indication who he was marrying. Why? Because mentioning who it is could lose some readers, even though I might gain some. Shippings are like a two-edged sword, One might gain some, but lose some at the same time. In this case the risk might outweigh the reward. I do have a person in mind, but I'm not saying, so you can take it anyway you want to.**


	3. Chapter 3: Winds of Change

Chapter 3: Winds of Change

_Two Years later..._

Musk, urine, stale beer and other smells filled the air as Christian sat on a bar stool, idly sipping a bottle of beer. He very rarely drank, but ever since Alison's death, he had no problem with the bitter taste of alcohol. He wasn't an alcoholic per say, but he often danced the line between self-destruction and sanity. Of course, dealing with the people he did, one had to in order to be accepted. He sat with his back to the wall, scanning the area, waiting for his informant. Not a lot of people hung around this place, making it safe to discuss private matters in. The bar was on the outskirts of Saffron City, away from the glitz and glamor of the largest city in Kanto, where the lower rungs of society roamed the dark, dank alleyways and roads.

Two years had passed since the funeral, since the first clue he had. He wandered from town to town, city to city, hoping to find some answer, some semblance of a lead, to lead him down the path of justice. But in order to find what he was seeking, he had to go to their level, infiltrate the underground. He had many identities because of this, and he never let slip the real mission. He portrayed himself as a 'collector' of sorts, seeking rare and unusual pokemon (how ironic this description was; it was the one Samuel Oak asked him about) and this 'albino Pidgeot' was the most unusual of them all. It also explained his team as well, each of their abilities helping him with his search. He glanced at the feather, still in the pocket of his long coat, and waited.

"Want another?" the bartender asked, gesturing to his nearly empty bottle.

"No thanks." Christian refused. The last thing he needed was to get drunk and accidentally tell the true nature of his task. His fingers drummed the wood of the bar.

Something rang out outside and there was a commotion, which died down. Christian felt something twist in his gut and he leaped off the stool, hand reaching for one of his pokeballs strapped to his belt. The people outside had nearly completely dissipated by the time he got there, so the noise wasn't from the streets. _"Must be from the alley."_

He cautiously tread the alleyway, hand still resting on the pokeball, Sakaru's, his venasaur, in fact.

"Christ...ian," a voice wheezed from a pile of trashbags. "Over, here..."

Christian knelt. "Jack?" he whispered. Jack was the informant he was to meet with.

"Yeah..." Jack coughed and something red trickled from the corner of his mouth. Blood. "Listen... he...found out."

"Who found out? About what?"

"Who... you're look...ing for." Jack coughed again, blood spraying out in a fine mist. Christian patted Jack down, and found a wound in his chest. He had been shot, with a small caliber weapon. "I, heard him...talking about, you. Something about... Alto..mare and Soul..." Jack's head lolled onto a bag, his eyes open and starting to glaze over. He was dead.

_"The bullet must have ripped through his upper torso, namely the lungs and heart." _Christian was surprised that he even lasted that long. He felt a pang of sadness for his death, but he repressed it as quickly as it came up. The last thing he needed was to be soft. _I need to get out of here." _He released his pidgeot from its pokeball. "Heru!" Fly me to Vermillion City!" The pidgeot bent one wing out, allowing Christian to board. The massive bird pokemon let out a harsh cry and he launched himself in the air, baring his rider to Vermillion City, the night sky silhouetting their bodies .

XXXXXXXXXX

Christian sat in the chair of his room at the Pokecenter in Vermillion, twirling the Pidgeot feather. According to Jack, someone had found out about him, and aimed to stop him. _"It's obvious that's it's the killer who's hunting me, but what about the city of Altomare? And this 'Soul'- something rather." _He bit the inside of his cheek, thinking. Growlithe and Windancer curled up on his bed, deep in sleep, something he should be doing right now. He didn't really regret Jack's death. Jack was a criminal and a scumbag, Christian only used him to get information. Christian was used to dealing with people like him, he did it quite frequently in fact, infiltrating criminal organizations, then, when he had the information he needed, he tossed them aside, destroyed from the inside out. He was starting to grow a list of enemies he duly noted. He did have to admit, he took a malicious pleasure from it. _"He seems to be playing a game of Purugly and Pichu with me, trying to lure me into a trap of some sort, but what?" _He shook his head; there was no need to seek answers he knew he couldn't find now, it would have been useless, _"Looks like we'll be taking a trip to Altomare in the morning. And when I find him, I'll be waiting."_

He gently picked up Winddancer and Growlithe and shifted them over, so he could crawl into bed as well. His pokemon were the only bright spots in his life, the only thing he had to look forward too, that and finding justice for Alison. He pulled the covers and closed his eyes, quickly falling into a dreamless slumber.

XXXXXXXXXX

The afternoon sun shone down on them as he wound his way past the bustling crowds of people, attempting to make it to the dock of Vermillion in time. He paused for a moment, green eyes scanning the docks, searching for the ferry. Winddancer perched on his shoulder, tail wrapped around his neck, with a balance that spoke of much practice. A slight breeze form the sea picked up, rustling his long black coat. Even though the climate of Kanto was rather mild, most people gave him unusual looks, as if to say, 'why on earth are you wearing that?' especially since it was July.

Much to his luck, a ferry heading for Olivine City was leaving in a matter of hours, then from there, he would take a speedboat to the water-bound city of Altomare. "Unusual that a city surrounded by water doesn't have a dock," he muttered to himself. Earlier that day, he had done some research on the city, looking for some way to reach the city without pushing his lapras to exhaustion. He discovered that the city, while it relied on water for transportation and their way of life, didn't have a massive port for him to dock from. Instead, he would have to use a speedboat service that went to and from the city.

He shoved his way past the crowd, to finally make it to the boat that would take him to Olivine City, located in the Johto region. Flashing his ticket to the sailor, he climbed the walkway onto the ferry, which looked more like a cruise ship than a ferry. _"Which might explain the high price for the one measly ticket," _he thought, resting his forearms on the railing. It wasn't that he didn't have the money,-in fact,he had a small inheritance from his now deceased parents-, he just liked to be frugal with his money, due to the fact that he bounced from place to place. He had other ways of earning some cash as well, like competing in illegal underground pokemon tournaments; he hated putting his pokemon through it, but it was the only way to get 'in', to search for answers. His team understood that fortunately, and didn't hold any grudges.

The ship pulled away from the docks and the ferry was off to Olivine. He didn't know how long it would take to get there, but he suspected a day or two. He unceremoniously tossed his duffel bag next to him on the wooden deck. Winddancer jumped off his shoulder and plunked herself onto the the black bag and curled up, finding a more comfortable spot to sit on.

Christian felt a little queasy as the ship broke through the waves. He wasn't fond of sea travel, he preferred flying over anything; it made him feel nauseous and like he never gained any sure footing. Alison had caught him Kai, his lapras, to help him get over it.

The was a shrill cry to his right and he spun around to find a man slamming a woman to the wall. People hovered around the scene, looking on with various expressions on their faces. From this distance, the man cut an imposing build, which would explain why people weren't interfering. A few pokeballs were strapped to his belt, another reason; the man looked as if he didn't hold any qualms about the notion of sicking his pokemon on bystanders. Christian gathered up his duffel and told Winddancer to watch it. Christian ambled over there, his hand hooked to his belt.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to beat up girls? Christain challenged, getting everybody's attention. "Though from the looks of it, your mother probably abandoned your ugly mug as soon as she saw it so you probably never got that memo, huh?" it got the bully's attention. He whirled towards Christain, his expression akin to an angry tauros. The woman, a petite pretty thing, slipped from his grasp and slunk away, without drawing his attention.

"Don't toy with me, little kid," the man snarled.

"And why not? It's quite fun actually. You get riled up so easily. Must be the steroids you're taking. I heard it can induce uncontrollable rages. I also heard that it shrinks your balls, which could explain why you're picking on a poor defenseless woman." Christian smirked. He dealt with these kind of people before; get them so riled up that they can't think straight, making the task of dispatching them so much easier.

If it were possible for steam to pour out, it would have done so with gusto from the bully's ears. "I'll teach you, you little windbag," he jerked off a pokeball from his belt and flung to small orb into the air. "Come on out Raichu!" A mouse looking pokemon with a long tail and with orange and gold coloring came out in a flash of white light. Its whip-like tail twitched with anticipation for the upcoming battle.

"Oh goodie, a battle. And here I thought we were dealing with fists." Christian shrugged. "Oh well. I choose you Espera!" An alakazam came out, with a came and collected demeanor. The female humanoid pokemon radiated psychic energy. Christian hoped that the man would be deterred by the pokemon he chose. Unfortunately, the man was either overconfident, or just plain stupid. Christian went with the latter.

"Raichu, use thunderbolt!" its trainer commanded and a bolt shot out from the pokemon. The air crackled with electricity as the bolt raced towards Espera.

"Espera, absorb!" the Alakazam knelt down to one knee and she crossed her arms across her chest. The bolt struck and Christian could taste the ozone, he was so close. The bolt then faded and Espera stood back up, smoke coming from her two spoons, but she was otherwise alright. He had trained her to accept blows of that magnitude; it often threw off trainers when he did so.

"Now use volt tackle!" the raichu pumped its small limbs to gain electricity and it charged, currents of electricity trailing off.

"Psychic!" the alakazam raised one of her spoons up and her eyes began to glow with psychic energy along with the spoon. She turned the spoon downwards and the raichu found itself hovering above the deck, its limbs flailing around, but it couldn't find any grip. It had essentially wasted its attack, draining it of a substantial amount of strength. Espera made a jerky movement and she mentally flung the raichu into a handful of deck chairs. Christian winced as he chairs flew apart in pieces of plastic and wicker; he had a feeling that he was going to have to pay for that.

The raichu stood up from the debris of broken chairs, groggy. It swayed and shook its head, trying to regain its senses. It fell back into the pile, fainted. The bully growled and returned the raichu back into its pokeball. He then spun to face Christian, who was smirking as he returned Espera. "This isn't over, you, you-" evidently the bully couldn't think of anything else, so he barreled at Christian, fists raised. It reminded Christian of a ryhorn gone berserk.

His opponent swung wildly and Christian dodged them mostly, though he did get clipped on the shoulder, sending him back a couple of paces. Christian ducked under one of the wild punches and shot one into the man's abdomen. Christian could feel the air from the man's lungs rush out of him. Christian then kneed him in the groin and finally, a punch to the his collarbone. Christian stepped back as the man sank to his knees, wheezing and moaning.

"I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget you little piece of garbage." he wheezed.

"You know, you don't sound very frightening when your voice is an octave higher than normal." Christian began to stroll away from the scene. "Oh, and if you even think about coming after me, I won't have any qualms about putting you in the nearest hospital in a coma." three security guards showed up at the scene, just as Christian was leaving. One of them stopped him.

"Sir, may I ask what happened here?"

"Sure. He and I were just having a friendly little battle until he went berserk on me. It seems that's he's a sore loser. Oh and by the way, you might want to go check up on a woman on this ship. He was in the midst of assaulting her until I showed up, so your welcome for preventing a crime from takingplace on this little ship of yours." Christian nodded. "Good day." he went back to where Winddancer was guarding his duffel and headed to the room he was staying in, the fox pokemon tagging behind him.

XXXXXXXXXX

The room wasn't much, just the necessities and even those were sparse, even spartan in decoration. He tossed the bag on his bed and sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to relax. He remembered Alison massaging his shoulders whenever he came home, stressed and on edge. He flopped down on the bed and closed his eyes. It had been a long day to say the least.

"Hello, did you enjoy yourself today?" Christian jolted upright to find a man peering at him, with a patronizing expression. He how he got into the room was a mystery; Christian had the only key. He recognized the stranger with a start; it was the golden eyed man from the graveyard, the one who gave him that warning. "Because from where I'm standing, you behaved like a brute out there."

Christian scowled at him, nursing his now bruising shoulder. "I don't need your patronizing attitude. He was a jerk and a scumbag. He needed to be taken down a few pegs. Plus, he was hurting someone."

"So your idea of justice is with your own two fists then? You've gotten much worse than I thought."

"I said, I didn't need you scolding me about what I did. What's done is done and he won't be hurting any more ever again."

"I'm not scolding you. I'm only regretting how far you've fallen."

"Look, just get out alright? Just go. I'm not in the mood right now."

"Fine, whatever. I'm only trying to save you from yourself. Just imagine how Alison would react if she saw you."

"I said get out!"

The golden eyed man left. As he shut the door behind him, he leaned against the door and sighed gustily. It was hopeless, dealing with this man. Why was he even helping him? Trying to save him from himself? _"Because he's the only one that can stop the chaos that will come," _Arceus answered to himself, though a part of him wondered if he would ever break through to Christian.

**So I have to admit, this is probably the most intense piece I've written so far, especially when it comes to fleshing out a character like Christian. He's a man who enjoys teetering on the edge of self-destruction and self preservation, where in his mind the line between justice and vengeance are so blurred that there isn't a perceptible difference anymore. As a (normally) optimistic person, it is very difficult for me to delve deep into the human psyche as dark as this character. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to tip the author on the way out!**


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